


Banashur's Pilgrimage

by robin_bird



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 4
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-22 18:33:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11973216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robin_bird/pseuds/robin_bird
Summary: Ajay thought the war was over.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read...all mistakes are my own.

Exhausted, Ajay stumbled up the dirt path to his house covered in dirt, sweat, and blood. He wanted to bathe, eat a hot meal, and to sleep for as long as possible...not necessarily in that order. He was grateful that he had his father’s old house to hide in for a while. There was a lot to think about. Sabal and Amita were at each other’s throats, Bhadra barely looked at him anymore without fear, and Pagan’s taunting communications were wearing him down. He had just finished helping to defend Utkarsh. He’d lost count of the number of Royal Army throats he had slit, the number of innocent civilians whose limbs had been blown off in the artillery bombings. Their cries would haunt him as he slept.

He collapsed next to the water fountain at the back of the house. Cupping the cool water, he splashed it on his face and washed away the filth as best he could. It would have to do until he’d gotten some sleep. He trudged back to the front of the house, nodding to the man who kept watch. Sabal had always seen to it that the homestead was protected and Ajay was thankful for the small kindness. He took passing notice of the house itself. He’d paid the guy a shit ton of money to fix up the house inside and out and now it looked like a home and Ajay felt a small swell of pride. His family home.

He slowly climbed the ladder to the loft and crawled into bed. He took only the time necessary to shed his blood-covered jacket and gloves and to pull off his shoes before he collapsed face first and lost consciousness. His last thought was of the gurgling sound a man makes when you shove a knife into his neck.

~~

Ajay woke up to the smell of bacon and his stomach spasmed painfully. He sat up on the edge of his bed and scrubbed his face. His skin felt tight, his eyes dry. He stood on unsteady legs and staggered to the ladder. At the edge of the loft, he looked down and saw Sabal cooking food in his kitchen. Was he hallucinating? No, the smell was all too real. He climbed down the ladder, somehow managing to not fall and kill himself and when he turned, Sabal was standing in front of him, a plate of bacon, eggs, and roti in his hands as an offering. Ajay looked at him in wonder.

“I thought an American breakfast might be a comfort. Unfortunately, I do not have loaves of refined bread. Roti must suffice.”

Ajay could only grunt his appreciation as he grabbed the plate and collapsed onto the bench at the back wall, ripping into his plate like the starving man he was. He heard Sabal chuckle.

“Slow down, brother. You’re going to make yourself sick,” he advised, handing Ajay a cup of water. Ajay threw back his head and drank the water in a single gulp. His stomach cramped uncomfortably and he slowed down.

“How did you know I was here?” he asked between bites.

“Aadesh sent me a message,” Sabal told him, sitting down next to him with his own plate. Ajay frowned.

“You’re having your people spy on me?”

“I would not call it that, Ajay. You’re vital to the cause.” An unnamed emotion burned its way through him and he stood, his plate empty.

“Yes, the cause. Well, I’d hate for the cause to lose me,” he said, trying not to sound bitter. He heard Sabal sigh heavily behind him.

“Ajay, I didn’t mean…”

“Yeah, sure…I know I’m just a gun to you. It’s fine. I don’t bring much else to the table.” He set his plate on the nearest surface and turned to face Sabal. He jumped, startled. Sabal was standing right there and he hadn’t heard him move at all. Sabal gripped his shoulders tightly.

“You are so much more than a gun, Ajay,” he whispered fiercely, his eyes burning brightly, close and intense. “You are the son of the great Mohan Ghale! You have brought hope and inspiration to the people of Kyrat! They look to you, Ajay…never doubt that. Never doubt yourself!” As suddenly as he was there, he was stepping back, releasing Ajay’s shoulders and shaking himself. “Sorry, I just don’t like hearing you talk about yourself that way,” he said, sitting back down with his plate.

“Ooookay,” Ajay muttered under his breath. “Look, it’s been a long few weeks and I need some time to…recharge. I don’t mind that you’re here, but I really just…I need some time, Sabal. This has all been…a lot to take in.” Sabal nodded in understanding.

“I understand, Ajay. I just wanted to see if you needed anything. I feel responsible for your wellbeing,” he said softly, almost as if he were sharing a secret. They stared at one another for a moment and Ajay had a sudden vision of Sabal kneeling next to his bed, praying after Durkesh. Sabal cleared his throat. “I warmed some water for a bath,” he said, gesturing towards the small fireplace where a large pot hung, steam billowing from the top. Ajay wanted to moan. A hot bath? Yes, please. “I had Aadesh bring a small tub into the yard…I hope that is okay?”

“Jesus Christ, yes,” Ajay breathed, grinning lopsidedly at Sabal now. Sabal smiled back and it looked good on him. It made him look softer somehow. It was then that Ajay realized he’d never actually seen Sabal smile before. He shook himself. “I’m just going to…” he broke off, gesturing towards the pot and Sabal nodded. Ajay found a small towel to wrap around the handle and picked up the pot, carrying it out the front door. Aadesh was gone, but there was a large metal tub sitting near the front door, already half full of steaming water. Ajay dumped the last of the pot into the water and noticed a small stool nearby with a cloth and a few small bottles that he assumed were the usual soaps. It seemed Sabal had thought of everything. Ajay straighten and started to unbutton his shirt when he heard the front door open behind him.

“I hope everything is in order?” Sabal asked when he stepped close. “I know bathing outside is not ideal, but there is no one nearby…even Yogi and Reggie have moved on to greener pastures,” he said with a smirk. Ajay reflexively looked past the tree and waterfall, noticing their abandoned tent.

“Huh,” he replied, not sure whether he was actually going to miss those two or not.

“Yes, well…I will be on my way. Never doubt that I am here if you need anything, Ajay,” he said, reaching out to grip Ajay’s shoulder.

“Th…thanks,” Ajay stuttered as Sabal stared at him. “Thank you, Sabal.” Sabal grinned wryly.

“Bye, Son of Mohan. Do not take too long to decompress, we have a war to win,” he shouted over his shoulder as he turned to walk back down the path and Ajay stared after him, confused and a little bit turned on. He shook himself. What the hell was wrong with him? Pagan’s taunting voice flickering through his head.

‘So tell me, Ajay, who are you rooting for so far? Have you fallen into Amita's honey pot, or have you been dazzled by Sabal's flowing locks and bad-boy jawline? Hey, each to his own…’

Once Sabal was out of sight, Ajay quickly undressed and sunk into the tub with a loud groan, his muscles loosening gratefully. He settled back against the side of the tub and let the water work its magic. He must have dozed off because he woke with a start as the sun was setting, the water cool around him. He washed himself quickly and stepped from the tub, glancing down at the filthy water with a shudder. After finding a fresh set of clothes, he went back outside, emptying the tub and tending to the pigs and chickens in the pen. He found doing the regular day-to-day upkeep to be relaxing. He could see himself settling here after…after everything was over.

He was still confused over who was right. Amita or Sabal? After having read several of his father’s journal entries, he was sure that his father would be pleased to know that he had backed Sabal so far. On the other hand, he felt like he was always working with a limited amount of information. It seemed like both Amita and Sabal gave him only enough to keep him hooked…just enough to keep him on their side. He was frustrated with them both. It was hard enough to fight a Civil War with two fronts, much less three.

After he finished the last of the daily chores, he headed back up to the bed and perused the shelves of his father’s library. It seemed extensive, titles ranging wildly from fiction bestsellers to staid economic books about policy and theory. He picked a book with a gilded spine entitled Kyrat: Land of Myth and Legend. He propped himself against the headboard and flipped through the book. There were painted pages in bright reds and blues and greens depicting the gods of Kyrati legend: Banashur, Kyra, and the blue demons, the Rakshasa. He touched the pages reverently until he happened on a painting of the great warrior, Kalinag. It might have been his imagination, but the man looked a little like him. He fell asleep with the book open on his chest, this time he dreamt of violent blue and gold gilded masks and glowing tiger eyes.

~~

He spent another day and night at the homestead before pulling on his jacket and gloves and gathering his gear. He radioed Sabal, a small knot in his chest easing when he heard the other man’s voice again. Once he had the coordinates, he took his gyrocopter to Sabal’s location. Their conversation was short and Ajay wasn’t at all surprised about what Sabal was asking him to do. Disappointed, yes. Surprised, no. He just didn’t know if he could go through with it. Amita had worked so hard for the Golden Path and even if she and Sabal didn’t agree on everything, it was no reason to kill her. He spent the journey to Amita’s position debating with himself on whether he was actually capable of such a thing. Turns out he wasn’t.

~~

The guilt of letting Amita go and not telling Sabal weighed heavily on Ajay. He wondered what Sabal’s reaction would be once he found out…if he ever found out. However, now that Amita was out of the way, it seemed like Sabal was making a greater effort to involve Ajay or at least to check in on him. There were lonely nights with Ajay huddling close to a small fire that just the sound of Sabal’s voice over the radio helped Ajay to keep the demons in his mind at bay. Sometime he just asked Sabal to keep talking. It was then that Sabal would tell him stories about the gods and goddesses that made up Kyrati legend. He spoke reverently about the warrior Kalinag, how his skill and determination helped to defeat the Rakshasas and to free Shangri-La from evil. He also spoke about his beloved goddess Kyra, the bringer of light and life.

Eventually, Ajay asked for stories about his father. The journal entries were not enough for him. Sabal’s tone took on a wistful quality and Ajay wondered, not for the first time, just what Mohan had meant to Sabal. Sabal wasn’t that much older than him, but Ajay supposed that a young boy looking up to a fierce rebel leader could inspire awe and admiration…or more.

“He was more than a leader, Ajay. He was intelligent and charismatic and he knew Kyrat backwards and forwards. He knew the people, breathed in the air every single day of his life. He knew what encouraged people to fight for him, with him.” Sabal was quiet for a moment. “I know you’ve been on the hunt for the pieces of his journal. What have you discovered?” Ajay wasn’t sure he wanted to answer that question.

“Too much…too much and not enough. He obviously cared about Kyrat and he loved my mom, but…”

“Yes?” Ajay could almost see Sabal, the radio clutched tightly in his fist, leaning forward, his eyes bright.

“He…he was rigid in some of his ideals. Too rigid, I think.” He heard Sabal sigh on the other end of the radio.

“Your father just wanted to keep everyone safe. He was tired of the killing, Ajay, tired of the raping and pillaging of his home, tired of seeing the ones he loved die.” Ajay nodded even though he knew Sabal couldn’t see him.

“I know and I get that, but…did you know that he sent my mom to Pagan? She wanted to help the cause all along, just like him, but he wouldn’t let her until it was too late…until he pushed her away. He sent her straight into the arms of the man he despised, all because he couldn’t see…”

“Ajay,” Sabal’s voice was soft, gentle, “sometimes we sabotage ourselves because we are unwilling to bend.” Ajay didn’t know what to say to that. He wasn’t sure if Sabal was talking about his father or himself now. He could point out that the whole ordeal with Amita could have been handled better if only Sabal had been willing to bend a little, but he kept his mouth shut. “Where are you tonight, brother?” Sabal asked, signaling the end of their conversation. He always closed by asking Ajay where he was, like it reassured him somehow.

“A cave…um, Asru Cave.”

“Ah, the far Northeast. Very well. Sleep peacefully tonight, Ajay,” Sabal signed off, the click and hiss of the radio somehow reassuring. Ajay sighed and kicked out the small fire he had started before laying his head down on his pack. He didn’t know how well he would sleep here…one of the Royal Army had killed himself on a ledge deep inside the cave and The Goat had seen fit to place a mask on his face. So creepy.

~~

Ajay stumbled, his knees weak. They had made the final push to the Royal Palace and he had confronted Pagan. Everything Pagan said, everything he showed Ajay made a sick sort of sense. Lakshmana, the half-sister he never knew he had, was dead by his own father’s hand and in turn, his mother had killed him and fled with Ajay to America. It made so much more sense now. His mother never talked about Kyrat…never talked about his father or what happened to her before they arrived in America and Ajay understood now that it had been too painful. Mohan thought she betrayed him by falling in love with Pagan, but Ajay knew from reading his journal entries that it had almost been inevitable.

Mohan had pushed his mother away and she had fallen out of love with him. Pagan had been there. Pagan had helped her pick up the pieces. The year that his mother spent with Pagan must have been somewhat of a relief, it sounded like Pagan treated her more like an equal, much more than his father ever did. That’s not to say he thought his mother’s actions were justified, though. Pagan was crazy…insane. The whole situation was so fucked up and Ajay could hardly breathe, much less pay attention to what Pagan was saying. He barely heard the sound of the helicopter start up or the click of the door closing behind him beyond the roaring his ears.

He left the shrine, the ghosts of his mother and sister an almost palpable presence behind him, to see Pagan get on the helicopter. He was tempted…so tempted to lift his rocket launcher to his shoulder and blast Pagan out of the sky. He watched in agony as the helicopter lifted off the ground and carried Pagan away to god knows where. It took him several long moments before he could make his feet move again. He walked back to the shrine, entering it and kneeling before the urns. Time passed immeasurably: minutes, hours, days…Ajay was oblivious to time. His knees started to ache and eventually he passed out.


	2. Chapter 2

He returned to his house, leaving the running of the country in Sabal’s hands. After he watched Sabal’s “cleansing” he wanted no further part of running Kyrat. Sabal was just like Ajay’s father, just like the great, rigid, unbending Mohan Ghale. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d made the wrong choice. Amita might have been willing to use despicable means to ensure the prosperity of Kyrat, but she wouldn’t have killed her own people to do it. She wouldn’t have had them kneel and slit their throats for doing what they thought was best, for following Sabal into battle.

He fed his pigs and chickens, tended the small garden out front, hunted for pelts now that winter was coming. He built an add-on to the house, a bathroom with running water, grateful for the waterfall nearby. He spent hours reading through his father’s library, fleshing out the history of his homeland. Months passed and Ajay found a sort of peace there. He worked every day until he was exhausted and couldn’t think about the things he’d done anymore. Occasionally, Aadesh brought news of Sabal and the country along with supplies that Ajay could not make for himself. It seemed as though maybe he had made the right choice after all. Aadesh told him that once Bhadra had been crowned the Tarun Matara, the people rallied around her. Sabal used her influence to help reopen the KEO gold mines and the country was once again starting to prosper. It afforded him some small comfort.

~~

The sun was just setting beyond the far horizon, bathing the sky in wild pinks and oranges, when Sabal surprised him a few months later. He squinted down the path to the road when one of the chickens squawked in warning…they had become quite the security system. He was shocked to see Sabal stumbling up the road, hair loose from his usual ponytail, covered in dirt and filth. He waited at the top of the path, watching as Sabal froze once he realized Ajay was standing there. He was clutching his left hand to his chest. There were bloody rags wrapped around it and his face was pinched, his eyes glazed from pain. Ajay hurried down to him, gripped his shoulder and steered him up to the house.

“What happened?” he asked as he pulled Sabal’s arm over his shoulder when the other man slumped against him.

“It’s all fallen apart, brother…Kyrat is cursed, destined to always be mired in war. Kyra has abandoned us,” Sabal mumbled as his head started to droop. Ajay cursed, barely managing to get the door open and drop Sabal on a pile of pillows nearby just as he lost consciousness. He stared down at Sabal in confusion. What could he possibly have meant? He hurried to the corner, pulling out the small AM/FM radio he kept just in case. He never listened to it. He couldn’t stand the constant drone of Rabi’s voice. He checked the batteries and clicked the radio on.

“…I still can’t believe it,” Rabi’s voice was somber, much more serious than Ajay had ever heard it before. “She was only twelve, our beautiful Tarun Matara and now she is dead.” Ajay felt his stomach drop. “We’ve been through so much, seen so much death and hate in these last many years. After Ajay Ghale rid us of Pagan Min, it felt like the sun had broken through the clouds. We thought that only better years were ahead of us. Well, we were wrong. We were idiots. Fools.” Rabi was silent for a moment, only the crackle of the radio filling the silence.

“As I reported earlier this week, Sabal has disappeared amid conflicting reports. According to my sources, he has either fled to the south or he was killed in a gun fight that was initiated by a small group of usurpers once word of Bhadra’s death spread. Apparently, they call themselves the “Messengers of the Revolution”. I’m going to have to find an acronym for that.” He paused again, like he couldn’t believe he’d just make a joke, before he cleared his throat and continued. “Our country is once again at war.”

Ajay clicked off the radio, sitting down heavily near Sabal. Bhadra was dead. When? How? Why? Ajay had more questions than answers, which was a familiar feeling. Sabal had looked broken, like a man without a reason to live and now Ajay knew why. There was a rapid-fire knock on the door. Ajay stood, reaching into a nearby cabinet for his favorite pistol.

“Who is it?” His voice was strong, sure as he checked the pistol’s clip and clicked off the safety.

“Aadesh.” Ajay peered through one of the slats on the door to see Aadesh’s worried face peering back.

“Are you alone?”

“Yes, Ajay, please tell me…is Sabal here?” Ajay weighed his options. He was 98% sure that Aadesh was loyal to Sabal, but if the last few months told him anything, that meant nothing.

“Yes,” he answered, catching the quick flick of Aadesh’s wrist. There must be others surrounding the house. Ajay swallowed the disappointment.

“I need to see him, Ajay, please.”

“Now’s not a great time, Aadesh,” Ajay called out. He moved around the house and looked out of each ground floor window. By his count, there were 11 men and women moving covertly around the house. He didn’t waste any time. He hauled Sabal over his shoulder and carried him up the ladder, setting the other man as gently as possible on his bed.

His old gear felt like a long-lost friend. His gloves hugged his fingers tightly, his belt cinched easily at his waist, with his extra ammo in its given space. He holstered his gun and picked up his bow and quiver, slinging them both over his shoulder. He felt a calm certainty settle over him. Creeping to the closest window, he opened it with a soft click and pulled himself over the window seal, making sure to keep as close to the wall as possible. He set up his bow, pulling an arrow from his quiver and stringing it in a smooth, practiced motion. He stared down below him, picking out a few people in the bushes behind his house.

Without a breath between, he aimed and released his arrows in rapid fire, all four people falling dead where they stood without a sound. He paused, breathing slowly in and out through his nose, listening. He heard movement from the front of the house. Turning, he scaled the ladder on the wall above the awning, grateful that he’d installed it two weeks earlier. From high on top of the house, he peered down, counting four people standing in a group near the top of the path leading away from the house. He carefully picked an explosive arrow from his quiver and strung it, waiting a beat before pulling it taunt and letting go. They screamed in pain, the explosion knocked them off their feet and set more than one of them on fire. One of them tumbled over the side of the cliff.

The rest of the rebels shouted in alarm, scurrying for cover. Ajay quickly ducked as they zeroed in on his position and started firing. He darted back towards the ladder and slid down, clutching the sides with his gloved hands. Next, he dropped quietly and softly to the ground and crept along the back of the house around the right side. His pigs had escaped the pen or they had been set free…only a chicken, his rooster, Samuel, was still hanging around, oblivious. He craned his neck to look around the corner, trying to figure out the best way to sneak up on the remaining rebels when he heard the sound of his front door being broken into.

He took a deep breath and rushed around the corner. A heavy gunner noticed him first and shouted the alarm, pointing Ajay out to the rest. Ajay pulled the pin on a grenade that had been attached to his belt and threw it with deadly aim. They had no time to react, the grenade exploded within seconds of being thrown, bits of flesh, dirt, and flowers rained down from the sky and Ajay cursed at the loss of his garden. He ducked into his house, the front door in splinters, to find Aadesh already starting to climb the ladder.

Without hesitation, Ajay walked up behind the other man and wrapped his arm around his neck. He pulled him back and stabbed his blade deep into his chest. Aadesh screamed in pain, blood spurting in a high arc when Ajay pulled out his knife. Ajay let him go, stepping back to watch his body fall without flinching. He looked around, suddenly exhausted. Now he had to clean everything up.

~~

Ajay made quick work of the bodies, piling them in his wheelbarrow (which had narrowly escaped the grenade) and tossing them over the cliff’s edge. He found a long length of plywood in the shed by the house and used it to patch up his front door until he could make a new one. Once that was out of the way, he set about laying mines to help deter any unwelcomed visitors. There was honestly no one that Ajay trusted, that included Sabal, but he was of the mind ‘the devil you know.’ He set some of the mines at random points on the path to the house, figuring that would give him some warning should someone attempt another attack.

He finished just as the sun was setting and the almost spring air turned cold. He returned to the house, curious to see if Sabal was awake. He climbed the ladder and hesitated at the door to his bedroom. He could hear Sabal sobbing, gulping wild, uneven breaths as he obviously tried to contain himself. Everything that Sabal had worked so hard for had been destroyed in one day and not for the first time, Ajay wondered what could have possibly happened to Bhadra.

Ajay knocked on the doorframe and entered the room. Sabal turned away from him.

“Sabal, I need to know what happened…what’s going on? Aadesh showed up here looking for you and attacked me when I wouldn’t let him see you. What the fuck happened?” Ajay grabbed Sabal’s shoulder and forced him to turn around. Sabal’s eyes were tormented, his face streaked with dirt and blood, tear tracks cutting a path through the filth.

“She’s dead, Ajay. The Tarun Matara is dead.”

“I heard on the radio,” Ajay whispered. “You should probably call her Bhadra now.” He let bitterness creep into his voice and Sabal nodded, curling in on himself and sobbing. “What happened, Sabal? How did she die?”

“She took her own life, Ajay. She killed herself.” Ajay was stunned into silence. This was the last thing he had expected. “She left a note,” Sabal continued, his breath hitching, “that said it was too much...to hard, that she was going to let everyone down. After…after I found her body, a group ambushed me, tried to kill me and I fled. I didn’t know where else to go, Ajay.” Ajay turned his back on Sabal, sitting perched on the edge of his bed, thinking. “I let her down, Ajay. I let Bhadra down. I was so blinded by my beliefs…so sure that she was the one that I didn’t pause to consider…” Ajay stood, not wanting to hear it.

“There’s a bathroom downstairs now, go and clean yourself up.” Ajay left the house and went to his favorite spot, the small shrine under the tree. He lit the small tea lights himself and knelt before the statue, the sound of the rushing waterfall soothing. He settled his yak hide blanket closer to his body as he stared out over the cliff and lost himself in thought. What did this mean for Kyrat? What should he do next?

It seemed suspicious that Sabal was ambushed just after finding Bhadra’s body. Either someone knew what Bhadra had planned or her death wasn’t simply a suicide. The latter sounded more plausible. Ajay knew that Bhadra had reservations about being named Tarun Matara…that she really was worried about letting Kyrat down, but all the updates that Aadesh had given him seemed to indicate that she was stepping into the role without any problems. Of course, that was before Aadesh betrayed Sabal.

It was hard to know what to think and Ajay realized that was a familiar feeling. He cursed Sabal and Kyrat. Just when he thought he’d found some peace, when he’d found a home for himself, this happens. And then he immediately felt guilty for thinking it. He thought of Bhadra. She would never been put in that position if it weren’t for him and the decisions he had made during the war.

He heard Sabal clear his throat behind him, but he didn’t react. Sabal moved to sit nearby, shooing Samuel away. After a few moments of silence, Ajay turned to face Sabal. The other man had taken a shower, his hair hung loose in his face, cleaned but obscuring his eyes. He had taken some of Ajay’s clothes, a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that clung to his chest, a woven blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He had rewrapped his injured hand and the white of the bandage gleamed brightly in the moonlight. He looked like a completely different man from the one that Ajay had associated with the Golden Path’s blue and gold uniform.

“Thank you, Ajay,” Sabal said after a beat.

“For what?”

“For taking me in and giving me shelter…from protecting me from Aadesh and his men.” Ajay shrugged. “Don’t shrug as if it were nothing. I know, I know that you disapproved of…”

“Disapproved?” Ajay cut in with a harsh laugh. “Sabal you slaughtered your own people. They may have followed Amita, but they were good Kyrati people, people that were still on your side!” Sabal hung his head, avoiding Ajay’s eyes.

“You’re right. I lost sight, brother. I lost the meaning behind the cause. I thought we needed to be cleansed, but it turned out the threat was right under my nose and I never knew it.”

“Sometimes we sabotage ourselves because we are unwilling to bend,” Ajay said, flinging Sabal’s words back in his face and Sabal flinched.

“Yes…yes,” he whispered, rubbing his good hand across his mouth. “I’m sorry, Ajay…I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me…apologize to those people whose lives you took. Apologize to their families. Apologize to Bhadra.” That made Sabal flinch.

“I will, but I do need to apologize to you, Ajay. I mislead you…I used you. You must see that now.” Ajay’s mouth tightened in fury. It’s one thing to know it in the abstract, it’s another to have a full confession.

“Fuck you, Sabal.” He stood and turned to walk back to the house, but Sabal reached up to grab his wrist. His hand was warm and his grip too tight to pull away from.

“Please, Ajay, please accept my apology?” Sabal knelt in front of him, still clutching Ajay’s wrist. He stared up at Ajay with pleading eyes. “I have lost everything…my people, my country, my faith…I cannot lose you as well.” Ajay shook his head, emotions warring inside him.

“Sabal, I don’t…” It was nearly impossible to reconcile the man in front of him on his knees, pleading, with the man he’d known as the leader of the Golden Path. He didn’t know if he could ever forgive Sabal for everything he’d done, but he was positive that he couldn’t have this conversation with Sabal right now. He clenched his jaw and peeled Sabal’s fingers from his wrist and stepped back. “You can stay here until you figure out what’s going on, but then you need to leave. I don’t want any part of another civil war.” He left Sabal there on his knees beneath the tree.

~~

After a restless night, Ajay found Sabal in the same spot as last night, curled under the protective branches. He felt a momentary pang of guilt. The other man looked completely wrecked. He reached down and shook Sabal’s shoulder. Momentary panic and confusion crossed Sabal’s face as he peered up at Ajay, squinting against the pale, early morning light.

Ajay silently offered him a cup of coffee and Sabal took it gratefully. They sat like that in silence for several moments. This was always Ajay’s favorite time of day, the pale light of the sun inching up over the mountain behind the house, slowly bathing the valley below them in a soft, warm glow. The whole of Kyrat always seemed to hang in the balance between tranquility and chaos in the few moments before full sunrise. Sabal finally broke the silence between them.

“I don’t know where to go from here, Ajay. I don’t know what to do.” The leaves above them whispered as a breeze pressed down from the side of the mountain behind them.

“Can I ask you a question?” Ajay asked, looking at Sabal and when the other man nodded, he continued. “Do you honestly believe Bhadra would kill herself?” He saw Sabal swallow hard and look into the distance.

“Once, long ago…before, before everything, I would have never given it thought. To give things thought is to make the come true, my grandmother used to tell me. But I know Bhadra was concerned about being named the Tarun Matara. I know that she worried she wouldn’t meet expectation. But, Ajay, she was perfect. She was _the_ Tarun Matara. After the ceremony, she pulled on the mantel like a second skin. She had a renewed sense of self and purpose, the people were in love with her.”

“Okay, so if she didn’t kill herself…who killed her? Who would want Bhadra dead…who would benefit from that?” Ajay questioned, shaking his head.

“Pagan,” Sabal said, certainty giving his voice strength. Ajay turned to Sabal, shocked.

“Pagan? No. Pagan’s gone.”

“Gone, Ajay, not dead.” Ajay doesn’t imagine the accusation in Sabal’s tone. “You let him live.”

“Fuck you, Sabal,” Ajay replied, venom in his voice. “You weren’t there, you don’t know. You don’t understand. Pagan isn’t a demon. He isn’t the devil in a man suit. He loved my mom and my half-sister more than anything. I couldn’t pull the trigger even if I wanted to.”

“You only saw a small piece, a sliver of the hell that Pagan rained down on Kyrat. Because of him, the population of Kyrat was cut in half! Men, women, and children were beaten, raped, and murdered on a whim! Our culture, our sense of who we were as people was being extinguished day by day.”

“You don’t think I saw that…that I saw worse? I was out there every day! I saw the slave fields, the sex houses, the mass graves. But Pagan isn’t coming back, Sabal. He made it clear that he was done…retiring.” Sabal looked at him disbelief.

“Retiring? How can one retire from such a thing? If you believe that he turned off his mind, cut Kyrat out of his heart, then you’re a bigger fool than I thought.” Ajay swallowed his anger. “I can think of no other unless there is a new threat, someone who saw an opportunity and took it. I need more information, Ajay. I’m afraid my usual informants are no longer trustworthy.”

“Rabi.” Ajay stood from his spot, taking Sabal’s empty coffee cup. “We can trust Rabi.”

“The man from the radio?” Sabal looked skeptical.

“I helped him a few times…it’s time he helped us now.”

“Us?” Ajay just nodded sharply and returned to the house to gear up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd...all mistakes are my own.

It turns out, Rabi had already gone into hiding, broadcasting his show from a hole in the wall in southeastern Kyrat out of sheer paranoia. Once the war had ended, Rabi promised Ajay that he could always find him on a certain radio frequency. He tuned his radio and called Rabi’s name and sure enough, the man answered. Rabi seemed delighted to hear from Ajay and assured him that he would provide any information he could, but only in person. 

Once he had Rabi’s location, they set off down the mountain, leaving Ajay’s sanctuary behind. He didn’t know why, but for some reason, he expected it to look different...to be different. It wasn’t though. It was still the same old Kyrat. The only real difference was temporary. The trees that had lost their summer foliage were still mostly bare. Some had new buds that signaled the return of spring and in a few short weeks, they would look like they did when Ajay first arrived in Kyrat.

After shooing a bird out of the back seat, Ajay pushed Sabal towards the passenger side of a car they found abandoned a few miles away. He hot wired it in two seconds flat with a triumphant grin to which Sabal only quirked an eyebrow, unimpressed.

Rabi’s hideout was more than 500 kilometers away from Ajay’s house. The ride was long and uncomfortable. The car didn’t have any heat and their breath visible in the air in front of them. The silence between them grew ever more awkward. What was there to say, really? Sabal reached over and clicked on the radio. Rabi’s voice filled the car. 

“Hey guys, this is Rabi Ray Rana, Kyrat’s most popular DJ. Only DJ, really, but definitely the most popular. As you all know, I’m broadcasting from an undisclosed location since Kyrat is once again in turmoil. We really cannot stay out of trouble, can we? There are once again reports of violence near some of our more beloved monuments. I can now confirm that both Ma’untena Ghari and Ananta Muna shrines have been completely destroyed.” Sabal stiffened in the seat next to him, turning to look out the window, jaw clinched as they sped through a small abandoned outpost. “There’s nothing left. Someone is waging a war against our history and culture once again…shades of Pagan Min, maybe? No one found his body, you know? We all just assumed that Ajay Ghale pulled the trigger, but what if he didn’t? I’ll leave you, my beloved listeners, to speculate until next time!” Ajay cursed under his breath as a traditional Kyrati song with underlying thumping bass begins playing.

“I am not the only one that thinks Pagan is behind this.” Ajay gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“Yeah, well, let’s wait until we see his grinning face and hideous hair again, before we start saying, ‘I told you so.’ Rabi doesn’t even know that Pagan’s actually alive for sure. He’s just guessing.” Sabal didn’t reply, just stared out the window, hands curled into tense fists on his thighs.

They passed very few people on the road. It seemed as though all of Kyrat was in hiding and Ajay was grateful for at least that small favor. When they did come across anyone, Sabal would duck down in his seat, turning his head away from the window. They reached the turn off for Rabi’s place and Ajay parked the car behind a large bush. They had to get out and walk while. According to Ajay’s map it was several kilometers deep into the woods. Ajay shouldered his pack and weapons, handing Sabal the bag he’d packed for him and a pistol. 

~~

The place certainly looked abandoned except for the large satellite dish on the roof and Ajay shook his head. Despite the fact that it was buried deep in the woods, anyone who saw that would be curious. He motioned for Sabal to stand around the corner, no point in throwing caution to the wind now. He knocked twice on the door, sharply, but there was no response. 

“Rabi?” Ajay called softly. “Rabi, it’s me…Ajay.” He knocked again, softer this time.

“Ajay?” Rabi ripped open the door, grinning widely, reaching out to pull Ajay in by his shoulder and slamming the door shut behind him.

“W…” was all Ajay could get out before Rabi was hugging him tightly.

“Ajay! I honestly thought I’d never see you again! How do you like my place, huh?” he asked, letting Ajay go to sweep his arms around the small cabin. It was cluttered with radio parts and pieces, the hum of electricity making Ajay’s ears buzz. “I know it’s not much, but as soon as I heard about Bhadra and Sabal, I knew I had to get out of the station. Which is a shame, you know? I loved that place! I only got to enjoy it for a few months, but I was attached, man! It had everything I needed…everything! And I mean, you know that I wasn’t Sabal’s biggest supporter back in the day, but he got his shit together, you know? I mean, besides that pesky business with Amita’s people…which I was not one of…”

“Rabi…Rabi!” Ajay interrupted, gripping Rabi’s shoulder to shake him gently. Rabi seemed to snap out of his rambling dialogue.

“Shit…shit, where are my manners, Ajay?” Do you want anything to drink?” Ajay shook his head, amused. 

“I need information, Rabi.” Rabi looked at him guardedly now, moving away to sit behind one of the desk littered with bits and pieces of computers and radios. 

“Ajay Ghale to the rescue once again, huh? Is this about Bhadra and Sabal? Because, honestly Ajay, I don’t know much of anything…just what you heard on the radio.” Ajay wondered why Rabi had seemed so eager to part with information when Ajay first reached out but seemed so reluctant now. He started wandering slowly around the cramped space, picking up little things, here and there, studying them before putting them down and picking up the next. Rabi watched him with increasing concern.

“But you have sources, right? Who are they?” Rabi laughed out loud.

“I can’t tell you that, Ajay! That’s like rule number one of journalism.” Ajay stood still, close enough to Rabi now that he hovered over him. Rabi leaned back in his chair as far as he could.

“You’re not a journalist, Rabi. You’re a DJ, remember? I need to find out what happened. Something just doesn’t add up and I need information.” Rabi was looking up at him, wide-eyed, face flushed. 

“I would love to help you, Ajay, really…but…” Ajay abruptly stood, moving back towards the door. He opened it and motioned to Sabal. When Sabal stood in the doorway, hair is disarray, wearing civilian clothes, Rabi’s mouth fell open.

“S…Sabal?” Sabal’s nod was curt, rude. “Heeey! Sabal, my man!” Rabi stood and held his hand out for Sabal to shake.

“It’s nice to finally put a face to the personality,” Sabal said dryly, glancing down at Rabi’s hand before ignoring it. Ajay watched as Rabi let his hand fall to his side.

“Same, Sabal, although I have to tell you, you are much more handsome in person than I thought you would be. I understand now why so many people follow you! You are a very handsome man! Just like our Ajay here,” Rabi said with a nervous grin. Sabal scowled at him and Ajay sighed, stepping between them.

“Rabi…please, we just need information. We don't think Bhadra didn’t kill herself. We think that she was murdered, but we need to find out who is behind it.” Rabi looked shell-shocked, gaping at the both of them wide-mouthed. 

“Who would kill the Tarun Matara?!” Rabi asked, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“We don’t know…that’s why we need your help,” Ajay stressed. Rabi looked from Ajay to Sabal and back, a look of gleeful understanding dawning on his face.

“You think it’s Pagan, don’t you?” Rabi asked with a triumphant grin. “I do, too! They’ve been slashing and burning villages as they go. Did you hear my last broadcast? They destroyed Jalendu this morning, burnt it to the ground. I couldn’t believe it when I heard,” Rabi continued to ramble on, oblivious to the gutted look on Sabal’s face. 

Sabal clenched his fists and turned away from them. He stumbled out of the hut, walking down to the edge of the small pond nearby. Rabi broke off when he noticed Sabal leave, “Hey, is he okay?” They both stared after Sabal until Rabi nudged Ajay with his shoulder. “You know he’s a little more…uhhh, stoic than I thought he’d be.” Ajay just shook his head and followed Sabal.

“Sabal?” 

“It’s done now. It’s done and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Even if we find the person responsible, it’s too late. Jalendu is gone.” Sabal knelt by the edge of the lapping water, a small waterfall pouring into the pond a few feet away. Ajay grabbed Sabal’s shoulder tightly and knelt down next to him.

“Buildings and statues can be rebuilt, Sabal. It’s the people that matter. Don’t you understand? Even after what happened after Pagan…after Amita. Civil war has torn Kyrat apart. You know that more than anyone, neighbors against neighbors, families against families, friends against friends,” he tightened his grip on Sabal’s shoulder. “If you can’t let go of the…the things that you associate with Kyrat, you’re going to lose all the people that make Kyrat what it is!” Sabal glanced over at him, eyes tormented.

“I did what I thought was right, what I thought Kyra wanted me to do! Those people that helped Pagan, that helped Amita…they didn’t want what was best for Kyrat! They only wanted what was best for them. Pagan amassed great wealth by pillaging our holy shrines while the rest of Kyrat lingered in abject poverty. Amita would have done the same, but with drugs! She would have forced every single man, woman, and child into slavery to do horrible things, Ajay…horrible things.” Ajay pulled his hand away.

“You may be right,” Ajay said, “but it doesn’t excuse what you did or make it any better.” He turned and walked back into Rabi’s radio station. 

~~

When he walked back into the radio station, Rabi was shuffling through a stack of papers next to his microphone. He glanced up at Ajay before returning his attention to the papers.

“So…uh, you and Sabal, huh?” Ajay is stunned into silence and can feel his face flushing. “I get it though…you two make a really handsome couple and I bet the sex is great. I can picture it being really…intense. You both seem like intense guys. It is intense, right?” Rabi continues to ramble on after he glances up at Ajay for confirmation and not finding it. 

“Rabi…” Ajay choked out, sensing Sabal as he stepped up behind him. “Do you have any information for us? Anything that would help?” Rabi grinned at him triumphantly as he found what he was looking for, holding up a sheet of paper.

“One of my cousins wrote me a letter a few weeks ago. His name is Mukesh and he was working at Chal Jama then…just before Bhadra…just before she died. He thought he saw something suspicious but he wasn’t sure and he just mentioned it in passing in his letter. Maybe he saw more than he realized?” Ajay stepped closer and grabbed the letter out of Rabi’s hand. “Hey!” Ajay read the letter quickly, handing it back to Sabal once he finished. 

“Where is Mukesh now?” he questioned Rabi. Rabi frowned, stepping back with his arms crossed.

“What do I get in return for telling you?” Rabi asked. They both glowered at him, but he held his ground. Ajay glanced at Sabal, who nodded.

“Give us two days and you can tell Kyrat that Sabal is alive and well.” Rabi perked up at that, excitement transforming his face into boyish delight.

“And that you’re helping him, right?” Ajay shook his head.

“Keep me out of it.” Rabi frowned and tried to bargain.

“One day.” 

Sabal stepped further into the station, the letter crushed in his hand as he advanced furiously on Rabi.

“Two days. Two,” he said, holding up two fingers menacingly, “and Kyra have mercy on your soul if you tell anyone before that.” Rabi backed up, hands up to ward Sabal off. 

“Fine, fine. Two days, but I want to hear from you at least an hour before air. I don’t want to lie to all of Kyrat if you manage to get yourself killed after everything else you two have been through.” Sabal nodded curtly. “He lives near Chal Jama Monastery. He was one of the men setting up for Bhadra’s arrival.”

“She was to complete a blessing upon Kyrat the day after she died,” Sabal offered to Ajay. “It is the time of our Chhath festival. There was to be a large ceremony where people would request specific blessings and she would be the conduit to Kyra. It is tradition. This would have been the first time in 30 years that Kyrat had a complete Chhath blessing.” Ajay could hear the sorrow in Sabal’s voice. “Show Ajay on the map and let us be on our way.” Sabal gestured to Ajay and turned to leave the station. 

“It was nice to finally meet you!” Rabi called after Sabal’s retreating back, rolling his eyes when Sabal didn’t respond. “Yeah, he’s kind of a dick,” he muttered under his breath as he stepped close to show Ajay on his map. 

~~

There was a small house built up into the hillside near Chal Jama. Ajay parked near the bottom of the pathway and they walked slowly, cautiously up to the house. Ajay palmed the hilt of his pistol, tense. The house was quiet and seemed to be abandoned. He held up his hand to gesture to Sabal to hang back. He heard Sabal snort softly behind him and step up to his side. He had an automatic rifle in his hands and Ajay took a second to wonder where he’d found it. Ajay peered up over a window seal as they crept up to the side of the house. There were two men, dressed in dark fatigues, talking softly over the bent head of a man kneeling before them. He fell back, bumping shoulders with Sabal and showing him two fingers. Sabal nodded, mouth in a thin line. He quietly slung the gun on his shoulder and pulled out a knife. Ajay pulled out his own knife and took a deep breath.

In unison, they moved soundlessly and deliberately, creeping into the hut. The man, who Ajay assumed was Mukesh, lifted his head and his eyes widened when saw them. Ajay lifted a finger to his mouth to keep the man quiet and he worried that they would be given away until Mukesh lowered his head again. Ajay jumped up to the nearest man, grabbing him around the neck and plunging his own knife into the man’s throat. The man gurgled, his blood spurted warm and thick over Ajay’s hand and across Mukesh’s face.

Sabal moved in next to him, quiet and deadly, just as the second man turned in surprise. Sabal’s knife caught him in the shoulder, just below his collarbone. The man screamed, trying to grab at Sabal, but he danced out of the way only to dart back in and shove his knife deeper. The man fell at their feet and they both looked at Mukesh who stared up at them in blood-soaked awe. Ajay moved to untie him.

“Thank you! Thank Kyra! W...why are you both here?” Mukesh asked as he stood on unsteady legs. He obviously recognized both of them.

“We talked to Rabi,” Ajay answered. “You wrote him a letter just before Bhadra died?” 

“Who were these men?” Sabal interrupted, scowling. He gestured to the bodies at their feet, blood slowly pooling across the wooden floor. Mukesh shrugged. 

“I do not know…they showed up and started asking me questions.”

“What kind of questions?” Sabal asked, leaning down to pull his knife from the dead man on the floor. He pulled a clean handkerchief out of his back pocket and cleaned the blood from his knife. Ajay watched, a little amused. He always thought of Sabal as a leader, not a fighter, but working in sync with him was a bit of a thrill.

“About the monastery…they wanted me to draw a detailed map. They asked me if there were guards posted since the Tarun Matara killed herself.”

“They are going to destroy Chal Jama.” Sabal turned to Ajay. “We must stop them.” 

“We will, Sabal…I promise, but we need information first.” Ajay returned his attention to Mukesh as Sabal huffed behind him. “You wrote to Rabi and told him you saw something the day before she died? What do you remember?”

“There was a man there, Samar. I saw him sneaking around the monastery that day. He made a reputation for himself as a mercenary during the war. He was one of many men who sold their souls for money in those dark times. At the monastery, he was asking people questions. I lost track of him eventually. I just mentioned it to Rabi because it made me uncomfortable.” 

“Where can we find him?” 

“He used to live in a small hut near Kelo Manor, but I do not know if he still does…the war displaced many of us.”

“Can you show me on this map?” Ajay asked, pulling his well-worn map out of his back pocket and offering it to Mukesh. He nodded and pointed to a small spot not too far away where roads divide and a river passes through. Ajay returned the map to his pocket and glanced at Sabal, who was kneeling down next to the dead men. “Do you recognize them?” Sabal shook his head and patted them down, searching through their pockets.

“There is no identification…nothing of note,” he said, pocketing some money and a small ivory statue of an elephant. 

“I am glad you are both still alive…it means Kyrat has something to fight for,” Mukesh said, the expression on his face serious, his voice somber. “The day Bhadra died, it felt like Kyra was abandoning Kyrat. Now that I know you two are working together, it feels like perhaps Kyra’s plan for Kyrat is not finished.” Ajay shared a glance with Sabal. Ajay didn’t subscribe to all that fate and religious stuff, but he knew Sabal did. Sabal nodded.

“I appreciate the sentiment, brother,” Sabal said, he said with a quick, grateful grin. He held his hand out for Mukesh to shake. Instead, Mukesh dropped to his knees and grabbed Sabal’s hand, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss the back of it. 

“My king,” he whispered reverently over Sabal’s hand. Sabal looked stunned and he looked from Mukesh to Ajay and back. The moment gained weight and silence and it felt huge, bigger than them all. Sabal pulled away from Mukesh. 

“We must go,” he said as he hurried from the house without looking back. 

Ajay turned back to Mukesh, who said, “Protect him, Ajay Ghale, son of Mohan…he has always fought for Kyrat. It should fight for him now. It will make many people feel better, knowing that you are at his back.” Ajay stared at Mukesh in surprise for a moment before he nodded and left the house, following Sabal down the path. 

~~

When Ajay finally caught up with Sabal, he was already in the car waiting for Ajay, tapping his foot impatiently against the foot well.

“Hurry, Ajay, we must get to Chal Jama.” Ajay climbed into the car and settled against his seat.

“There’s no rush, Sabal. Those men were on a fact-finding mission. Whoever is behind this isn’t ready to attack Chal Jama yet and if we rush in we’re going to get our asses handed to us.” Sabal glared at Ajay, but relaxed slightly.

“Fine, what do you suggest?” Ajay turned on the car.

“I’ve got a few ideas.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd...all mistakes are my own. Thanks for the comments and kudos! Warning: violence and character death (not Ajay or Sabal).

When they arrived at Chal Jama, it looked abandoned. They walked into the main shrine, guns drawn to be on the safe side. It was dark inside, a few candles flickered softly in the gloom, a brazier lit here or there. Ajay heard a movement on his right and he swung his gun around, aiming blindly before he really saw anything. Raju materialized out of the darkness, looking like a ghost of his former self, and Ajay felt Sabal’s hand on his arm in warning. He lowered his weapon as the monk approached.

“Ajay? Sabal?” he whispered and launched himself forward, wrapping his arms around Sabal’s neck and sobbing.

“Oooookay,” Ajay said, slowly backing away. Obviously, this was a…private moment. He walked back out towards the entrance as Raju babbled to Sabal.

“…thought Kyra had abandoned us…lost…dead…”

He sat out front, dangling his legs off the rock wall until he got bored and started scoping out the best places to lay land mines for the coming attack. He developed a good tactical plan by the time Sabal walked out of the monastery, blinking into the sunlight. When he caught sight of Ajay, he smiled, genuine and relaxed. Ajay could see that some of the stress that Sabal had been carrying had been lifted. Whether it was time spent at the monastery, with Raju, or just praying, he didn’t know, but he was glad.

“I have good news, brother,” Sabal said as he stepped close and their arms brushed. “Raju says all the Golden Path warriors fled once they thought I had died and when they heard about the men in black attacking shrines and monasteries.”

“Okay…that’s good how?” Ajay asked more than a little confused. Sabal slid an arm over his shoulder, friendly, and Ajay could smell incense on his hair.

“Raju knows where they are and he thinks that they will come back once they know I am alive.”

“That  
good!” Sabal nodded.

“Now, tell me what we must do to prepare…”

He showed Sabal basically what he had been doing for the last half of the war. They spent a few hours laying mines and discussing the best way to approach the attack depending on which direction it might come. They were hoping that reports about Chal Jama being abandoned would reach the new army and that they would come expecting no resistance. That would be best case scenario, but they worked out a plan for all possible outcomes. They agreed that they had a solid strategy in place by the time they heard voices and footsteps. Both freeze, sharing a worried glance, until they caught sight of worn blue and yellow uniforms through the trees. They returned to the monastery entrance to greet the returning Golden Path soldiers.

They were met enthusiastically by the soldiers, some even knelt in front of them and kissed their hands like kings. Ajay finds it amusing when it happens to Sabal, but when the next soldier does it to him too, he steps back in alarm.

“Sabal and Ajay Ghale…it was meant to be, thank Kyra!”

“Raju said, yet we did not believe.”

“Banashur wills it!”

Sabal urged them to be quiet and then gave a short, impassioned speech about why they were there and what they must do. It was obvious to Ajay that these men and women would follow Sabal to the ends of the earth. After his speech, he gave everyone there an assignment and they disbursed. He and Sabal moved to the top of the rise directly opposite the main shrine entrance. It definitely had the best vantage point. They could see movement coming from all possible directions from that spot.

Then, it was just a waiting game. Time passed slowly and Ajay passed the time until night fell, cleaning his guns and checking his ammo. He took them apart, oiled the pieces, checked the springs, and put them back together with steady hands. He counted his ammo at least three times and managed to find some yak jerky at eventually night fell. He offered to share with Sabal who accepted his half gratefully. They spent most of the time in (mostly) comfortable silence.

They couldn’t have a fire, so there was no heat and Ajay was starting the get stiff sitting in the cold night air. The silence was starting to feel heavy, weighted, so Ajay starts to tell Sabal about his final confrontation with Pagan. He doesn’t know why he does it, but it feels like unfinished business.

“I know I told you about what I read in my father’s journals.” Sabal leaned forward, his interest immediately piqued. “I didn’t tell you the rest of the story...I didn’t tell you what really happened with Pagan. I think he was in love with my mother.” Sabal scoffed and shook his head in disbelief.

“No. No, that man couldn’t love anyone besides himself,” Sabal spit out, sitting back with a frown on his face and Ajay studied him in the faint moonlight.

“Do you want to hear this, or not?” Ajay asked, unamused by Sabal’s response. He wanted…he needed to explain himself, why he let Pagan go, but if Sabal wasn’t going to give him the chance…well. He waited patiently for Sabal to answer and ate the last of his jerky while he waited.

“Yes,” Sabal said simply after staring at him for an inscrutable moment. Ajay looked back at him and Sabal waved his hands around, urging him on.

“My parents fell out of love long before Pagan,” he started. “They were fighting constantly. Mohan didn’t want women fighting for the cause; Mom thought they should be on the frontlines. It’s where she wanted to be…helping, at least until she got pregnant with me. Mohan thought women should stay at home, raise babies, and wait for their men to return. If they returned at all…” Those later journal entries were wounded and full of bitterness.

“He eventually decided to send her straight to Pagan. Straight into the tiger’s den, he called it. I guess he thought that if she saw first hand what Pagan was doing…I don’t know?” Ajay shrugged. He couldn’t really say that his father’s logic made much sense. “He wanted her to spy on Pagan…provide him with intel and get as close to Pagan as possible. He even mentions using Pagan’s…fondness for her to her advantage.” He could feel Sabal watching him, studying him.

“Mom never talked about either one of them, you know?” he said suddenly, looking up to meet Sabal’s eyes. “I used to ask her about my dad all the time but she never once mentioned his name. We had to…to fill out this family tree thing when I was in middle school and when I asked her about it, she spent a week in her room, in the dark. All these other kids had dads that showed up for stuff, but not me. She never dated or remarried or anything. I think they broke her…both of them.” Ajay swallowed, emotions that he’d pushed deep rising to the surface. He felt Sabal move closer and his hand came out to rest on his, squeezing softly.

“I don’t know if Pagan loved my mom, but I do know he loved my sister. She meant…everything to him. He would have given up Kyrat for her. I think he lost it when Mohan murdered her.” He heard Sabal’s sharp intake of breath. “Yeah…he found out that mom had Ishwari and then he found my sister and he murdered her. Tell me that’s the mark of a sane man…killing a child, Sabal, and then maybe I’ll listen to your stories of the great Mohan Ghale.” He spit out his father’s name the way everyone else in Kyrat pronounced it, like he was a god. It felt like a stranger’s name on his tongue.

“In his last journal entry, he spouts bullshit about how it was all for me…how everything he’d done was for me. He killed my sister…for me? I don’t think so. Anyway, after Pagan showed me Ishwari’s shrine, he gave me the opportunity to kill him. I could have done it, blown him out of the sky, but I…I just couldn’t, Sabal. I’ve killed so many people here, one more wasn’t going to change the past. It wasn’t going to bring my sister or my mom back.”

Sabal was quiet for a while, thinking.

“I held your father up to an impossible standard, I think. He seemed like the warriors of legend to me when I was young, like Kalinag. That’s how my father talked about him.” Sabal picked up a stick and drug it through the dirt. “I would have followed him anywhere but then I learned he had been murdered…most of us thought Pagan had been the one to kill him. It is hard to wrap my mind around the fact that it was your mother.”

“How do you think I feel?” Ajay interrupted. “She was my mom! To make ends meet, she worked at a laundry mat during the week and as a cleaning lady on the weekends. She did the best she could raising me, but I didn’t make it easy. I can’t imagine her hurting a fly, much less…” he gestured with his hands “…you know.” Sabal nodded.

“Desperation and despair make people do strange things, brother,” Sabal supplied. “After your father died, the Golden Path floundered, they faltered with no real leader. Some took advantage of the mismanagement and stole blindly from what little your father had managed to save to help the cause. I grew up with tales of the Great Mohan Ghale and was determined to complete what he had started. I didn’t want to believe that he was…flawed.”

“Yeah, well…he was.” Sabal nodded, breaking his stick in half and throwing the pieces away. “It’s funny. I thought the same about you when it came time to choose between you and Amita. I thought you knew exactly what you were doing. I thought you had a plan to bring Kyrat out of the dark ages, but keep tradition alive. It’s why I backed you over Amita, but I was wrong. You murdered loyal Golden Path soldiers the second the war was over just like he did with the Golden Path soldiers that sought an end to the fighting. They all thought they were doing what was best for Kyrat, just like you, like Amita.”

“We’re only human, Ajay. We all make mistakes,” Sabal said, his voice hollow. After a beat, he continued, “It’s late. You should get some sleep. I’ll take first watch, brother.” Ajay nodded, setting his pack down and using it as a pillow. He could hear Sabal breathing evenly in the cold night air and despite not being able to feel his fingers or toes, he drifted off into an exhausted sleep.

~~

They came at dawn. Ajay relieved Sabal in the middle of the night, sitting next to the man while he tossed and turned restlessly. As the sky began to lighten, he heard the low rumble of trucks before he saw anything. Obviously, whoever was behind this was confident enough to believe that they didn’t need to be stealthy. From the East came three large trucks, their flat beds loaded with soldiers clad only in black. They were well armed and Ajay could see enough explosives to blow Chal Jama to the sky and back. He reached out to shake Sabal awake before turning back around and quietly hoisting a rocket launcher onto his shoulder as he took aim. The first truck exploded in a torrent of flames. Ammunition misfired in ear shattering explosions while fiery body parts rained down from the sky.

The other two trucks came to an abrupt stop and men and women hurried down from the flatbeds, crouching behind anything they could find and started to fire blindly towards the East entrance. On the hill overlooking the road, Sabal’s Golden Path soldiers stood above the attackers and rained bullets down on them, picking them off easily, one by one. Some of the attackers wised up, backtracking to outflank the Golden Path soldiers. That’s when they heard the first of the mines explode.

“Ajay.” It was all Sabal has to say before Ajay took off, hurrying down from their vantage point to intercept the rest of the attackers that didn’t get picked off by the mines. He easily dispatches the few that got through and before he knows it…it’s over. There were a couple of soldiers left alive and he saw Sabal giving orders to round them up. He knew what was going to happen to them, but at the moment, he didn’t care.

“That was easy,” he said as he walked up to Sabal.

“Too easy,” Sabal replied quickly with a distracted frown. “We should expect retaliation…and soon. Once word gets back to whoever is behind this, they will send another force. They’re not done. I should find out who it is shortly,” he said, nodding his head to one of his men dragging an enemy soldier with a bag over head towards the forest.

“I know we had to stay to prevent them from blowing up Chal Jama, but now we need to find out who killed Bahdra.” Sabal stared at him, his eyes cold.

“I want to know what happened to Bahdra as much as you do, Ajay, but I can’t leave now. I have to press the small advantage that we have now,” he insisted. “I need to be here. You understand that, right?” Ajay knew just from the expression on Sabal’s face that he wouldn’t be persuaded to leave, no matter what.

“Yeah…yeah, I get it.” Sabal nodded in satisfaction, reaching out to grip Ajay’s forearm. His hand was warm and surprisingly soft.

“You should go ahead…find Bhadra’s killer.” Ajay nodded. “Radio me if you find something, brother, and may Kyra go with you.” He let go of Ajay’s arm and walked towards the low screams that could now be heard through the rustling leaves of the trees. Ajay felt strangely bereft watching Sabal walk away. Having Sabal by his side had been…different…nice. He sighed before gathering his gear and walking back to their car.

~~

Ajay easily found the hut that Mukesh told them about and he spent the early morning hours scoping it out. Besides a pack of wolves sniffing around, there was no activity. Ajay quickly dispatched the wolves by climbing a tree and using his bow. He skinned them and butchered a fair amount of meat for his bait bag. He planned to stop by the nearest village as soon as he finished here and sell it for some real food. The wolves were pests here, like most of Kyrat’s wildlife.

He snuck up to the hut. A small shrine, its little candles gutted out, sat against one wall. There was a thin mattress was on the floor against the opposite wall and that was about it besides a single chest just outside the hut. When Ajay opened it, searching through, he found a sheaf of papers. There were several letters…all signed with a single Kryati character that Ajay couldn’t read. He sat down on the worn mattress and started to read through them.

They were correspondence on the purchase of a “service”. Nowhere was it written that the “service” was assassination, but Ajay was sure that this was the evidence he needed. Chal Jama was mentioned several times in the letters. It also mentioned where the man (also never named in the letters) could pick up his payment. Baghadur, Noore’s old fortress.

~~

After radioing Sabal about what he’d found and the location he was headed, Ajay got into the car and drove to the nearest village. He sold the wolf pelts and meat that he’d saved and bought enough supplies to last him awhile. He also bought more mines and explosives since most of his were currently being used to defend Chal Jama. He tried to keep a low profile but as he was leaving he heard the excited gossip spreading between residents.

He parked about a mile away from the fortress, smoke billowing from the opening in the mountainside. He remembered this fortress well. Repelling to the top was easy. The mountain provided a lot of hiding spots just outside the walls of the fortress. The ladders he remembered from before had been removed, but the ropes had not so he climbed all the way to the top and hunkered down, using his camera to start surveilling the place.

The people guarding the place were dressed like the men that he and Sabal killed at Murkesh’s, plain black fatigues with no discernible emblems or symbols on them. The place was buzzing though, men and women were loading ammo into crates and then onto the back of two large trucks parked just inside the entrance. Ajay watched as they finished loading the trucks and then about 30 people moved out behind the trucks as they started rumbling down the road.

“Sabal? Sabal?” Ajay radioed urgently.

“Yes, Ajay?” Sabal answered almost immediately and Ajay breathed a small sigh of relief.

“I think they’re on their way to Chal Jama from Baghadur. There are two big cargo trucks full of ammo and about 30 soldiers.”

“Thank you for the warning, Ajay. Have you found out anything else yet?”

“No, not yet. Now that the place is mostly empty, I’m going to sneak in and see what I can find.”

“Very well, brother…be safe.”

“You too, Sabal,” Ajay clicked off his radio and reattached it to his belt. He snuck down to the small ledge that would allow him to drop down just above the courtyard. Hiding behind a piece of the fortress wall, he drew his bow and readied an arrow, setting fire to the tip just before aiming and letting it loose. A man keeping watch on the wall went up in flames, his screams alerting the other guards left behind. They began shouting and searching frantically for where the arrow might have come from. Ajay ducked back behind the wall, waiting quietly and calmly until the alert was over and the guards went back to their positions.

He peered around the corner again, picking another target and prepping his bow and arrow, waiting to light it again until just before he let it fly. This time the alert lasted longer than before and a heavy gunner appeared on the ledge just below Ajay. He shouldered his bow and pulled out his knife. Cautiously, he crept to the edge of the ledge and, took a deep breath and leapt onto the shoulders of the gunner below him. He used the momentum from his drop to drive his knife into the man’s neck just between his armor and his helmet. The man gurgled, blood spraying out across Ajay’s hands and face. Once the man dropped to the ground, Ajay crouched out of the way, waiting for a moment to ensure that he hadn’t been spotted by anyone.

He slowly but steadily made his way through the rest of compound, often using his bow and plain arrows since they made the least amount of noise. He dispatched six other guards quietly and effectively until he was standing in front of the only other room in the fortress where someone could be hiding. He gripped the hilt of his knife tightly in his blood-soaked glove and slowly pushed open the door before stepping in. Pain bloomed bright on the right side of his face and everything went black.

~~

His head throbbed as he came to. The room was brightly lit from dancing flames in large braziers at each corner of the room. He was tied to a chair, stripped of all guns and ammo. He felt the slow, thick trickle of blood from the wound on his temple as it oozed down his cheek. He flexed his fists, testing the strength of the knots.

“Hello, Ajay.” He stiffened at the sound of that voice. Why didn’t he see this coming?

“Amita,” he replied, facing forward. She walked around the chair slowly, her expression was somehow serious and gleeful at the same time.

“I hope you understand how inevitable this was from the start.” She rocked back on her booted heels and crossed her arms over her chest as she stared down at him. “The old Kyrat was going to die, one way or another. I didn’t expect to have to wait this long, but it’s for the best. This way, I can destroy the old religion and rebuild Kyrat to compete in the global economy. And I have you to thank for it, Ajay.” She started to pace in front of him.

“Right now, the men I hired are attacking Chal Jama and will bring Sabal to me.” Ajay jerked at that and she grinned triumphantly. “Yes, of course, I knew Sabal would come to you and reenlist your services, since you so blindly followed him the first time. Was he all that you hoped he would be, Ajay? Did he live up to all the trust and hope that you put into him? I know the answer to that. How disappointed were you when you went down to Jalendu and saw him murdering people that had fought at our side against Pagan? Did you regret not picking me as the leader of the Golden Path then or did you simply turn your back on it because you had fallen in love with the great Mohan Ghale’s biggest disciple and religious fanatic? What an interesting circle.” She grinned maniacally and Ajay saw the glint of insanity in her eyes. She’d become unhinged.

“You were both hypocritical, both of you used me for your own gain,” Ajay spit out. “I should have killed you when I had the chance!” She tsked, wagging her finger in his face.

“Now, now, Ajay…I know you have a soft spot for certain people in your life. You never would have been able to kill me. I doubt you would have the balls to do it now, if you could.” She started pacing in front of him. “Once my men return with Sabal, we can have a nice chat about how you betrayed him by allowing me to escape and then I will kill you both. Trust me, it would be much easier to rule Kyrat if I had Mohan Ghale’s son at my side, it would lend an air of validation to my rule, but after I kill Sabal, I seriously doubt that I would be able to keep you under my thumb. Am I right?” she asked, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. He just scowled at her. A soft knock at the door interrupted them.

“Ahhhhh, Sabal!” she exclaimed delightedly. He was drug into the room by two large men, unconscious, but otherwise looked unharmed. They pulled another chair up next to Ajay and tied Sabal to it, leaving the room after a short nod from Amita. She leaned over Sabal, gripping his chin in her hand and tilting his head back. She softly slapped his cheek, encouraging him to wake up. He moaned softly, eyes fluttering open. “Saaaabal,” she called softly, grinning when his eyes finally opened and focused on her face. The confusion in his voice was enough to make Amita chuckle.

“Amita?”

“Yes, that’s right. Surprised to see me?” she asked sweetly. He just stared up at her, bewildered. He shook his head like he was trying to make her disappear.

“You’re dead. Ajay said…”

“No, Sabal. Ajay let me go…he forgot to mention that little detail, didn’t he?” She taunted, pointing to Ajay then. Sabal’s head swung to his right, it was then that he noticed Ajay tied up next to him. His eyes widened and Ajay could only stare back at him, imploring him to understand. Ajay watched as the astonishment of betrayal crossed Sabal’s face. Sabal faced Amita again, his jaw clenched. “Poor little baby…you didn’t have him wrapped as tightly around your pinky as you imagined, Sabal.” She reached out to caress Ajay’s cheek. “He’s been very helpful, you know? First, betraying you and letting me go…then helping to depose Pagan Min and leading you into this little trap, but I think his usefulness has nearly come to an end.” Ajay’s eyes widened.

“That’s not…” A sharp slap stung Ajay’s cheek as his head snapped to the side. Amita stuffed a dirty rag in his mouth and moved away from them. He started to furiously test the knots keeping him tied to the chair. He thought he felt a little give.

“It does not have to end like this, Amita,” Sabal said. She gave a sharp laugh as she paced back and forth in front of them.

“Oh really?! That’s funny coming from you! You sent Ajay to murder me! You slit the throats of the people that dared to follow me because I was a woman!”

“It had nothing to do with the fact that you are a woman, Amita, surely you can see that!”

“I see nothing! You are the disciple of the great and honorable Mohan Ghale,” she said each word viciously, spitting anger. “He thought a woman’s place was in the kitchen or in a man’s bed. Deny you don’t feel the same way…oh, wait,” she paused with a sly smile, looking back and forth between them both, “perhaps you don’t care so much about a woman’s role in your bed.”

“Enough,” Sabal said, glaring at her. She grinned down at them.

“Yes, that’s what I thought. It’s disappointing, isn’t it? Having a man that you trusted betray you so horribly when all either of you wanted was what was best for Kyrat?” she mused as she turned away to keep pacing the length of the room.

“You never wanted what was best for Kyrat,” Sabal said derisively. “Admit it, you just intended to use her for your own gain, just like Pagan Min.”

“Her? Your precious Kyrat?” Amita continued and they spared back and forth, neither willing to give an inch. By then, Ajay had managed to loosen his bonds, but he remained seated, waiting. “Enough!” She whirled on them ferociously. “We’re just wasting time now.” She reached over to pick up a pistol sitting on a nearby cabinet, his pistol and in a flash, Ajay was up, reaching for it. The shock of his sudden movement made her freeze for half a second, which was her only mistake. He grabbed the gun and twisted it in his palm. With his other hand, he grabbed the back of her head and shoved the muzzle of the gun under her chin. The gun went off with a deafening bang and it was over in just seconds, the smell of her blood and the acrid gunpowder a nauseous combination. She slumped to the floor and Ajay’s hands fell to his sides nerveless as he breathed heavily through the rag in his mouth.


End file.
